


Composition Notebooks

by TheImpalaClub



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, F/F, HIV/AIDS, I am a bad person, M/M, Tears, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:10:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheImpalaClub/pseuds/TheImpalaClub
Summary: Alexander is dying. And all his husband, John, can do about it is find the box of notebooks under their bed and give them to the person who's name is written on the front. He does it after the funeral, and at the bottom of the box is one addressed to Alex's mom. John made a promise, so the only thing left to do is fly to Nevis and find her.





	1. A Cardboard Box

Alex wasn't there when John woke up, slumped in the chair next to the smaller boy's now-empty bed. He quickly stood up and half tiptoed half ran into the hallway, praying that Laf or Eliza wasn't standing outside waiting to tell him the bad news. They'd let Alex go home a two weeks ago. Which meant that, supposedly, he had two weeks left. Unless there was a way for an almost-broke journalist, a struggling illustrator, and an underpaid social worker to pay for the meds, unless a miracle happened and someone found a cure in the next fourteen-ish days, it was probably going to be closer to a week and a half. He moved to flick the hallway light, but stopped short when he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Alex was throwing up again. John sighed, bit back the tears pressing against his temples and the backs of his eyes, and opened the door.   
He always forgot how much weight Alex had lost. Even with the nine layers he was always wearing, he was still too thin, and it was painfully obvious. John kneeled down next to him and ran his hands through Alex’s hair, holding it back as he coughed up the tiny amount of food he hadn't been too sick to eat that day.   
It had passed after a few more minutes. Alex slumped down over the toilet seat, barely acknowledging John’s presence.   
“You okay?” John whispered.   
“I'm dying, Laurens,” Alex slurred back, raising his eyes a little to glare.   
John pulled a washcloth out of the cabinet under the sink and soaked it in cold water. He ran it across Alex’s face, carefully ignoring the way the smaller could barely keep his eyes open, could barely lift his arms to make it easier for John to pick him up. “Just come back to bed, ‘Lex,” he muttered into his hair.   
John kicked the door open and gently laid Alex back onto his bed. He immediately curled up into a ball, his default position in the last few weeks, and managed to pull the covers over him. It took effort. Too much effort, John decided. He pursed his lips and moved back to his chair.   
“John,” Alex said, his voice harshly scratchy in the darkness. “Here.”  
It was one word, but he got the meaning. John crawled into bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Alex’s stomach.   
“I've got a headache,” Alex murmured.   
“You've always got a headache. Do you want me to get the pain meds?”  
He groans. “It'll just come back in a few hours.”  
“We could watch a movie…”  
“I can't concentrate on a movie. Can't we just- stay here? And not do anything?”  
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want.”  
They lapsed into silence. John could feel Alex shivering in his arms, hear the clock ticking and the deliberate breathing. Alex breathed like each breath he took was a choice instead of a reflex. Like if he wanted to, he could just stop, then and there. John didn't know people could sound like they're dying even in silence.   
“John?”  
“Wh-what is it? Do you want more blankets? Or water? Shit, I forgot to get you more water. I should-”  
“John, you're crying.”  
“No I'm-” John ran a hand over his face and found that he was.   
“It's gonna be okay,” Alex said, shifting so he could brush John's hair out of his face.   
“Don't do that. Everyone's gonna say that, when you're… and the last person who should be telling me that bullshit is you.”  
“I'm sorry.”  
“No, don't apologize. But I'm…” John choked out a sob. “I'm so mad, Alex. I'm mad that it was just you. I'm mad that there's no way for you to get better. I'm really fucking mad that no one knew until it was way too late.”  
“I won't tell you to be okay with this. But can you do some stuff for me? After, you know.”  
“You're twenty-five, Alex. I shouldn't have to fulfill your final requests.”  
Alex's tone suddenly got even harsher, more desperate. “Well, do it anyway. God. There's a box of composition notebooks under the bed, and you're not allowed to look at it until after my funeral. Each one's got somebody's name on it. You've gotta give each one to each person. That's it. I wrote stuff… to everyone-” Alex broke off and started coughing.   
“Okay, I promise,” John said as he helped him to an upright position.   
“And,” Alex wheezed, flashing the best attempt at a grin he could muster, “if you really want to mourn my death, there's a list of people in my jeans pocket of people you can punch in the fucking face in my honor.”  
John made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and another sob. “I swear, it shall be done.”  
“I love you.” Alex said it like he was reading the last line of a book before slamming it shut with a satisfied thump. He'd said it a million times before, but this time had such a resounding finality to it and it was more of him getting his affairs in order than a real I love you and their eyes met for longer than they had since the Diagnosis, capital D, and then something clicked into place with the sickening sound like the tick of a clock; this was Alex's last night.   
***  
John couldn’t help plan the funeral. But once he got there, he wished he had. Everything felt astronomically wrong, from the flowers to the picture of Alex by the church doors to the fact that everyone was wearing black. John was wearing green. It was the least he could do. He walked down the middle aisle, the same way he had five years ago, except now he wasn’t going to stand up at the altar, bouncing with anticipation, and wait for Alex to walk down after him. Now Alex was already there. Waiting for him, in a way.  
Everything had kind of gone numb. Earth, with the volume and saturation turned down. People pulled him into sideways hugs and told him they were sorry, that they were there for him. He churned out the thank-yous and gripped the cardboard box in his hands so he wouldn’t have to return any physical gestures. Finally, he made it to his seat. Front row. Ten feet from Alex, sitting up in front of the altar in a box. Once, their fridge broke and they’d had to get a new one, and Alex had practically lived in the box it came in for the next few weeks. He’d filled it with blankets, poked a hole in the side with scissors so his laptop charger could fit through easily, and John joked that he never saw him again, until they had to recycle it.  
Someone else had their hand on his shoulder now. John barely noticed, and once he did he almost didn’t look up. “Laf,” he mumbled, looking up.   
“Hey, mon ami. How are you?”  
“Tired of people asking me that.”  
Lafayette sighed and slid into the pew next to John. “This is shit,” they said quietly.  
“I know.”  
“Did you see Thomas and James are here? I could kill them.”  
John thought about the list Alex had talked about his last night. Maybe there really was one in the pocket of one of his pairs of jeans in their closet. If there was, Thomas and James would be at the very top of it. He smiled bitterly and stared at the stained-glass windows. He couldn’t even remember how he’d spent the last week. Jesus, had it been a week?  
“He’s not even supposed to be gone yet,” John whispered to the box on his lap.  
“I know,” Laf replied.  
“And they’ve got roses everywhere.”  
Lafayette looked around at the bouquets and vases everywhere, at the giant arrangement of roses above Alex’s coffin, and burst out laughing. John joined in after a few seconds, and immediately felt guilty, because the only times he could remember laughing for the past seven years were with Alex.  
“Alexander Hamilton hated roses with a passion that burned brighter than the fires of Hell,” Laf said after they had both stopped laughing quite as much. Everyone in the church was staring at them. “If anything’s going to inspire him to come back and haunt our asses, it’s gonna be this.”  
“He’s going to be running through the halls of the church throwing orchids at everyone who dares bring an inferior flower through the doors,” John replied.  
Before they could continue, the service had officially started. John ignored almost all of it. Someone read some scripture that he could almost hear Alex contradicting every word of, someone else talked about him but sugar-coated every part of his last year so much that John had a toothache by the end. George Washington walked up to the podium, stood there staring at everyone for a few seconds, shook his head, and walked back to his seat. John knew the feeling. Then Angelica walked up. She unfolded a piece of notebook paper, the noise too loud in the silent church. When she cleared her throat it was almost deafening.  
“Alexander was a lot of things. He was smart as hell, and funny, and empathetic, and we’re going to be here all day if I start talking about that. So instead I’m going to talk about the things he’s not- or, he wasn’t.” She paused and looked down, long enough for the room to settle back into silence before she started again. “For instance, he really wasn’t good a ping pong. In fact, he was possibly the worst I’ve ever seen at ping pong.” The church laughed a little, and a long-held breath started to be released. “And he wasn’t nice. He was insanely kind, and loyal to people he liked, but in all honesty he was kind of an asshole. In a good, loveable way, but still. I don’t think a day went by that he didn’t either insult me, or get in a fight with a random guy in a cafe, or start a Twitter war. On a good day, it was all three in the space of an hour. So yeah, long story short, he wasn’t nice. He also wasn’t very considerate of other people’s sleeping schedules. If I get into that, we’re going to be up all night.” More laughter. More relief of the tangible tension in the church. Angelica gave a small smile. “And he wasn’t the kind of person who would want us all sitting around mourning his loss, wearing veils and holding vigils and staying in bed for months on end. Once he said instead of a funeral he wanted to be cremated and for us all to go to the Westboro Baptist Church, and to throw his ashes in their faces. Which I’m still totally for, if we want to change plans. But um… he didn’t like people grieving over him. I think that’s really why he was so miserable the last couple months. Not because he was dying. Because people kept treating him like he was. And overall, he wasn’t the kind of guy who let a situation get the better of him. I remember, I visited him at the hospital. And he was, like, barely functioning. But this male nurse came in and started hitting on me, and Alex spent fifteen unadulterated minutes telling the guy off. I felt kind of sorry for him. So I’m taking his advice. This isn’t supposed to be about me, but everything I’m doing now is for Alex. I’m finishing med school, I’m doing my thesis on AIDS, and I’ve already applied to join an AIDS research team right after school. And it’s for him. Okay, that’s all.”  
Angelica ran down the stairs and pulled John, who was just as close to crying as she was, into a tight hug.   
“Thanks,” John whispered hoarsely.  
“You’re welcome, kid,” she replied with a laugh.  
***  
“So, what’s in the box?” Peggy asked. Alex’s closest circle had stayed behind long after he’d been buried, staring at the tombstone. His name looked foreign on it. And it was too new- void of the sun exposure and water damage of the other graves around the cemetery. At least it was sunny. Clear days were a rarity in New York winters, but Alex had hated the snow, so it seemed appropriate.  
John looked at the box in his hands for a moment, processing the question. “It’s...um… on his last night, he told me that there was this box. And there’s a notebook in here for everyone, or something. I don’t know; I haven’t opened it. And I don’t know who everyone means.”  
“Well, open it,” Hercules said, adjusting his beanie.  
“I really don’t want to.”  
“Why not?”  
“It’s obviously writing, because this was Alexander. But it’s either his last words to everyone, or something he’s been working on for years. And I don’t know which one would feel more painful.”  
Laf put their arm around John’s shoulders. “It’ll be worse if we never find out.”  
With a sigh, John dropped the box and knelt in front of it, unfolding the flaps on the top. Inside were two stacks of composition books, in all different colors. Each one was labelled. It was the most organized thing John had ever seen Alex put together. Reverently, John pulled out the first notebook. “This one’s for George,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the wind rushing through the trees around them.  
Washington walked heavily to take his. It was a dark green, one shade away from black.  
And so it went on. The yellow one was Peggy’s, the pink one was Angelica’s, and the teal one was Eliza’s. Clearly he’d put thought into the colors. Hercules’ was grey, Lafayette’s was metallic silver- which they were very excited about- and Maria’s was blood-red. Aaron's was dark brown. There were three more left. One, surprisingly, was for Thomas Jefferson. Laf volunteered to deliver it sometime that week.   
Then there was John’s. Holding it felt like holding a hot iron. Whatever was in there was the most honesty he would ever get out of Alexander Hamilton, and he couldn’t decide if that was more terrifying or confusing. It didn’t feel like a good thing, though. His was blue, the color of the sweatshirt Alex always stole from him even though the sleeves were too long and the hood swallowed him whole, the color they painted their bedroom ceiling one day after Alex hadn’t gotten out of bed in a week and John decided they needed to do something, the color the ring box was when John slipped it across a coffee shop table… he could go on. Red was supposed to be the most romantic color, the color of love. It wasn’t.  
There was one last notebook. It was clearly older than the rest, the corner bent in on each other and the fabric of the spine peeling off. First-day-of-school black. On the front was written, in a much younger version of Alex’s cramped, slanted handwriting: Rachel Faucette (Mom).  
“Jesus,” Hercules said. “What are we supposed to do with that one?”  
John tightened his scarf around his neck and left the box where it stood. “We’re going to Nevis,” he said with authority. “And we’re gonna find where she’s buried, and I’m gonna read it to her.” He spun on his heel and began stalking out of the cemetery.  
“John, wait,” Eliza called, running to catch up. “This isn’t a great idea. We can’t afford a flight. And what about the hurricane? It would be pretty hard to find a grave after that, wouldn’t it? There’s a lot of problems with-”  
“There’s millions of problems with everything, Eliza. I’m simply choosing to ignore the problems. Like you did for the past year. You know, there’s a reason he didn’t want to see you last month.”  
Eliza stopped and lowered her head. “I didn’t know what to do,” she said softly.  
“Wait, I know. I’m sorry. I just… this is my chance to do the thing.”  
“What thing?”  
“The big, meaningful, romantic thing that people are supposed to do. Like, climbing a mountain and carving your names in the top. Or saving someone’s life in the ER. Or raising a kid. Alex talked about it constantly, and I think this-” he waved the notebooks around “-is what his thing was. And mine is going to be flying to Nevis on the next plane, finding his mom, and reading what he wanted to tell her. Please let me do this.”  
Eliza stared for a few seconds. “I… can’t stop you.”  
“No, you can’t.”  
“But I can go with you, right?”  
“... okay.”


	2. Eliza's Book- Excerpts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time skips in the entries are shown with the '...'  
> it's kinda short but I got too sad to write anymore so hope you enjoy

We've been friends for like a year, so I decided to start one of these for you. I was planning on starting it next week, but we went and saw Guardians of the Galaxy today and we almost got kicked out for talking and laughing too loudly. Honestly we should probably just start watching movies at home. Anyway, it was really fun, especially after we dropped the entire popcorn bucket onto Laf’s lap, so I went and got a notebook afterwards. It's blue-ish, in case you didn't notice. I wanted to get one that was the same color as that jacket you wear 25/8, but Office Depot only has so many colors…  
… Merry Christmas, Liza!!! We went ice skating today. My ass still hurts. A lot. But it was fun. And after I walked around the mall for like, four hours trying to find that bracelet you showed me a picture of and ranted about how much you wanted. I couldn't find it, so I got you a necklace that was really similar. I hope you like it. I'm going to the washingtons so I'm not gonna see you open it. John told me to do the thing where you stick it in a gigantic box so you'd think it's a TV or something, but you always get the most angry at pranks and stuff, so I decided not to. I really like john. I'm hella glad we're roommates. Of course, he does go to bed a lot earlier than me, so I have to use headphones, and you know how much I hate headphones. At least when I lived with you and Ange I had people on the same sleeping schedule as me…  
...John and I are dating, and you seem kind of mad about it. I guess I'm not the best at social cues, because I didn't know you liked me. I really hope we're still friends, though. I like writing in here. I like how you always buy the coffee for the person behind you in line at Starbucks. I like braiding your hair a lot, too. Maybe I should've noticed earlier and talked to you about it. Anyway, not to rub salt in the wound or anything, but John and I went on a date today, and it was really fun. Not quite as fun as that time we walked around downtown and convinced that one family we were from an alternate dimension…  
...Jesus, Eliza, I love you so much. You're probably not going to remember this moment when I give this book to you (I've got this big plan where I'm gonna send everyone on a scavenger hunt. You'll find out when it happens), but I don't know. It's important. Because today was a really bad day, mentally, and I ended up skipping class to sit outside, because that usually helps, but then it was raining, which is the worst. So I'm under this tree, waiting for it to clear up, and then you came over and sat next to me and gave me one of your earbuds and didn't say anything and it was really great. So thanks. Also, you left your jacket at my apartment last week…  
… Just wanted to say that you're the best bridesmaid I could ever ask for. And that you gave the best speech ever. The dresses were the worst part, though. I don't know how many times I had to tell Hercules…  
… Happy New Years, Liza. Glad you've got Maria now. She's awesome. You guys have my blessing. Not that you needed my blessing, but you have it. That's the point. We’ve only been out of college two years, and it already seems like everything’s falling into place. Everyone’s living in the same building, and I’ve got the newspaper, and you’re finally a social worker just like you always said you’d be, and John’s an illustrator. We’ve got basically everything. I never thought everything would end up so perfect…  
… I got diagnosed today. You don’t even know. I can’t tell you. I’m gonna make someone else do it. You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family, besides Washington. And I feel like you’re gonna take it even harder than I did. You’re not even the one dying, you just care so damn much. You were always the one who stood up for me the most, and tried the hardest, and I know that’s not going to change. I just wish I knew, for a fact, that you’re gonna be happy again, after you find out. After I’m gone…  
… You’ve talked to me twice in the past six months. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I don’t know if you’re mad, or can’t take it, or what’s going on, but I wish you’d come visit. Or call. Or something to let me know you’re alive. Not that you’re the one who’s more likely to not be alive. I don’t think I’m mad at you. Everyone’s dealing with it differently. The only difference between me and everybody else is that you all get to work through it. I just really wish you’d come over. I think I’ve still got your blue jacket somewhere…  
… It’s been eight months. You’re still MIA. I wish you’d get over yourself and come see me. I’m the one who’s actually dying, I deserve a little bit of sympathy. I basically live in the hospital, and yesterday John asked if there was anything I wanted to do. Like he was a goddamn Make-A-Wish person. Honestly all I want to do is get kicked out of another movie theater with you and John and Laf and Herc. They all came today, with Maria. Your girlfriend is gonna beat you at the best friend game if you don’t come soon. She brought roses, which everyone else thought was hysterical. You know how much I fucking hate roses…  
...I wish I’d seen you more the last year. They sent me home on Wednesday, which is basically just a not-so-subtle way of saying that at least I’m gonna die in the safety and comfort of my own apartment. Fun times. And you were here, when I came in, which was nice. You got your jacket back. I feel like that was a little too final. I kind of wanted to keep it. We didn’t watch any movies. Not that I could’ve gone to a theater, but we could’ve watched one at home. I haven’t seen anything that came out this year. I did see the trailer for the new Guardians of the Galaxy. I don’t think I’m gonna see it. I don’t think I’m gonna see you again. It was pretty clear you thought the same thing, today. You never said it outright, but it was there. Yeah, I really wish you hadn’t taken your jacket with you today. Yesterday I kind of just sat on the kitchen floor and stared at the fridge, because there’s a ton of pictures of you on it. I don’t know how long I sat there for…  
… I love you, Eliza. Maybe not the way you used to want me to, but I do…


	3. Peggy's Notebook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the feedback I've been getting! And sorry for the emotional trauma I've caused.

I got you this three weeks ago and completely forgot about it, so I covered the inside cover in glitter to make up for it. Love ya. You and me went to a coffee shop today because you said you needed help on your essay, but it was actually great so we ended up talking about apocalypse theories for 3 hours until it closed. You're a really good writer, Peg. And that's coming from me, the narcissistic journalist. You also are very knowledgeable on doomsday theories. It's a little terrifying…  
… Sometimes I think you're the only one who's here for me. Not like everyone else isn't supportive, or anything. But they all have this version of me that they think is the good version, and when I'm not that, they spend the whole time trying to get me back to it. You don't. Like, sometimes I can't get out of bed for a week, and you're okay with that. And sometimes I can't sleep for a week, and you're okay with that, too. Like last night you stayed on the phone with me until 4 am, and I know you have a 9 am psych class, but you did it anyway. I don't know if john would've even done that…  
… YOU TURNED NINETEEN TODAY. GOOD FOR YOU PEG!! And your party was great. Sorry I ate half the cake before you got to blow out all the candles, though. Also sorry that Angelica kind of stole the spotlight the entire night. That wasn't my fault. Except I did start that argument. You've never seemed to mind other people in the spotlight. Maybe that's why you're majoring in theater tech. You seemed happier than I've seen you in a while…  
...you graduated today! In two years, like I did. God, I’m proud of you. You’re gonna get a job on Broadway in no time, I promise. And your speech was really good. You didn’t tell any of us you were speaking, so it was a complete surprise when you walked up to that podium all smiley and proud of yourself. I liked the part about work ethic. And it had just the right amount of funny moments. I think I was cheering louder than Angelica, and that’s saying something. It was also weird, though. When I met you, you were still in high school. And now you’re all grown up. And we’re such good friends, it kind of feels like watching my kid graduate. Not that I think you’re my kid. At least, not as much as Laf does. If they could adopt you as their own, they’d do it in a heartbeat, I swear. The point is, I’m glad to welcome you to the land of adulthood. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, but I guess you already pay taxes, so you’ve gotten a taste…  
...So I’m really drunk and my handwriting is bad but I just say that I fucking love you so much you’ve got hair and it’s soft and also I think I stole your lipstick for the rocky horror show showing at the tehater tonight but it might have been Angelica’s and oh shit th stain on the corner of the paper is from John he spilled beer on the book. Hey I’m marrying him in a week!!!!!! He’s gonna be a good husband, Pegs. Or is this Eliza’s notebook? Or Hercules? No, it’s you. Peggy I’m getting married in six days…  
...NEVER TRY AND PUT FURNITURE TOGETHER WITH JOHN LAURENS HE IS BAD AT IT AND THE LEGS ON YOUR CHAIR WILL BE BACKWARDS. That said, you moved in down the hall today. Which is great, because now I don’t have to drive across town to see you. Also, thanks for yesterday. You, John, Lafayette and I were all walking through the park, and John and I were holding hands (you know, because we're married and also adorable and that's what adorable married people do). Some asshole came up to us and started yelling. And you just destroyed him. He looked like he was gonna cry. Angelica taught you well…  
… I guess you had to be the first person I told, because you and John were in the car waiting for me. John was freaking out, and you were just sitting there. You didn't say anything until we got back to our building. And then we got out of the car and you just walked up and hugged me for a solid five minutes. Everyone else is trying to figure out the right thing to say to me, and you just didn't try and talk about it. Which is a nice change. I think you're gonna be better at telling Eliza than I am…  
… You've somehow become the leading authority on how AIDS works in the past six months. Like, if there's ever going to be a lighting technician who finds the cure for AIDS, I know who it's gonna be. It's been helpful, I guess. It's probably helping you, too, since you're doing a community theater production of Rent. Which I'm not letting John watch with us. I don't think he could handle the Collins-Angel stuff in act ii. He's actually more affected by this than I am right now. You're the only sane one in the friend group now…  
…You're the only one who's there for everything. I don't know how you do it. Even I'm not there for everything- you've seen how much I sleep. I'm mourning the loss of my all-nighters. Last night I slept for 13 hours. I hate it. It's not like it helps, and that's over half a day I wasn't doing anything. Never die a slow and painful death, Pegs. It fucking sucks. But whenever I wake up, you're sitting there, reading or eating crappy hospital food or talking to one of the doctors. All the GoFundMe money for meds is going into the hospital stay. So is the money from Washington. John's dad, surprisingly, donated enough for like a month. It was probably just to save his image. I think I'm just going to go home soon. There's not much else they can do for me. That was off track, sorry. What I'm trying to say is, you're there through everything. And no one else is. They can't handle it. I don't know why you can, but I love you for it. Yesterday they let you stay past visiting hours, you're here so often…  
…We don't have any pictures of us. Not just me and you. You and anybody. You're always the one taking the pictures. I wish there were more of you and me. Not that I'm going to get to look back on them, or anything. I just wish there were more…  
…You didn't come over today. John said it's because you had a meeting, but you always make time. I guess everyone has a breaking point…


	4. Hercules' Notebook- Excerpts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated! I've had extreme writers block, and I've been super busy with theater stuff. But I'm back with another dose of pain, so enjoy :)

Hercules’ Notebook (Excerpts)  
… I'm starting yours and Lafayette's notebooks at the same time, which makes sense. Why aren't you two dating yet? You really need to get on that, Mulligan. I ship you two so hard that I got you basically the same color notebooks without even thinking about it. That’s a great way to start this off, isn’t it? The point is, you’re one of my best friends, and you deserve one of these. Today was a pretty normal day. We had a few classes together, and I was at my internship for most of the day, and then everyone went out to dinner because Angelica didn’t feel like cooking and, let’s be honest, if she’s not making dinner nobody is. So yeah, not much happened, but yeah, it just seemed like a good time to start your book. I just kind of realized how close of friends we all are today. I never had friends before I came to New York. Everyone in Nevis either hated me because of my family or hated me because, you know, they’d actually met me. And then I got here…  
...Merry Christmas Herc! We haven’t done presents yet, because we’re waiting for Laf to get back from spending break with their family in France, but I’m pretty sure you made me another sweater. You make me one every year, and every year it’s my new favorite thing and I end up wearing it like every day, even in the summer. I don’t know how you make them so goddamn comfortable. Like, if clothes could be addictive, I think I’d need to go to rehab for your sweaters. That was weird. I should stop writing in pen. We went to a Christmas party last night. From what I remember, it was fun. I’m sure it was significantly less fun for you, being the DD and all. You always are. It’s really great of you to do that all the time, especially with the amount of times Laf, Angelica, and I have gotten blackout drunk just in the last six months. Eliza’s offered to take over for you a few times, but you’re the only one who can actually handle all three of us drunk. Like, I don’t know where I got this bruise on my shoulder, but I can guarantee it’s because I tried to fight someone. Eliza wouldn’t know what to do…  
...We went to pride today, and it was SO MUCH FUN HOLY SHIT!!! I don’t think we’ve all been this happy at the same time. I’ve never seen any of us wearing that much glitter, either. There’s no way that’s a coincidence. You should put sparkly face paint on everyone, everyday, for the rest of our lives. We’ll all be in a nursing home together, and you’re gonna have to plaster the bi flag on my forehead every day. Also, you and Lafayette finally hooked up. And I mean finally. Like, Jesus, I was about to lose hope…  
...I GOT MARRIED. IT WAS AWESOME. And you made my tux, which was of course amazing. Also, you did a best man speech thing, and I definitely cried the entire time. I’m just, god Herc, I got MARRIED. I don’t even know what to write to anyone. Not even John. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. I feel like nothing is ever going to be anything but perfect ever again…  
...The only thing that’s been worse than getting those tests back is having to tell everyone the results. I’d never seen you cry before. I feel like this isn’t going to be the last time, over the next year. That’s how long they’re saying I have, without the money for treatment. What the hell do you do with a year? What would you do? I asked, after I told you. You didn’t give me a straight answer. I don’t blame you. You did say a road trip. That sounded like a good idea. I don’t think the doctors would like that idea, though…  
...You helped check me into the hospital today. You’ve been here for all the big stuff- all the appointments, setting up fundraising, and now this. I think it’s because you know everyone else couldn’t handle it by themselves. The designated driver, just like always. Except I’m not supposed to drink anymore, and we’re not letting John anywhere near a bar after the alcohol poisoning two weeks ago. I wish I could get alcohol poisoning. Well, no, I don’t. I just wish you guys would let me drink. It lowers the immune system, but aren’t we kind of past the point of no return with that? And, let’s face it, no one has more reasons to get drunk than I do right now. For god’s sake, people have been telling me to write a will. I don’t even have anything anyone will want after I’m dead…  
...John’s and my fridge is almost covered in pictures. It’s always the six of us- Angelica, Eliza, you, me, John, Laf. Peggy’s always the one taking the pictures. And it’s weird. Because pretty soon you’re gonna be taking new pictures, and it’ll be the five of you. Everything’s gonna switch from US to YOU. I keep thinking about how everyone’s going to react. Like, John is going to be a fucking wreck, and Peggy is just going to keep working harder and harder until she can’t pretend everything’s okay anymore- because we’re, like, exactly the same- and you’re just going to be there for everyone. The shoulder to cry on. I really hope you do something for yourself, though. Otherwise a few months after you’re gonna be nothing but shoulders. On an unrelated note, I put on every single one of the sweaters you’ve made me over the years the second I got home, and I haven’t taken them off since. I’m so fucking cold, all the time...


	5. Maria's Notebook- Excerpts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long!! I posted this chapter a few weeks ago but then it didn't actually post, and then I forgot about it for a long time. Side note I just finished the DEH bootleg and I will never be able to look at a tree again without sobbing uncontrollably

Maria’s Notebook- Excerpts:  
You’ve been dating Eliza for two months now, so I feel like you deserve a notebook. I mean, putting up with the rest of us can’t be easy. Eliza’s great (which is why you started dating her, I assume) but the rest of us are complete assholes. And by now you’ve realized we’re a package deal, of course. Still, you’ve been totally fine with the constant screaming, and the texts at four in the morning, and the copious amounts of insults that get thrown around. I got you a red notebook, because I haven’t seen your closet but I’m pretty sure everything you own is some shade of red or pink. You could be a cartoon character. It’s a good color on you, though…  
...It’s Valentine’s day, and we went on a double date together. I’m pretty sure everyone at the restaurant and the movie thought you and I were dating, and John and Eliza were dating, which of course is fucking hilarious. It was a hella fancy restaurant, and I’m pretty sure none of us could actually afford it. Then we went and saw fifty shades of grey. And laughed the entire time. It’s honestly a miracle we’ve never actually gotten kicked out of a theater. With the amount we talk during movies, at least Eliza and I should be banned from Regal. After that disaster of a movie we walked around downtown until like two am. It was a good night. The coming home to Laf and Herc doing it on the kitchen table wasn’t the best ending, though…  
...You’re amazing, just so you know. Today we spent the entire day in your apartment, planning out how I’m going to propose to John. The sticky notes were such a good idea. Now I’ve just got to not be too scared to do it. I don’t think I will be. I don’t know. We’re doing it in a week. I’m going ring shopping tomorrow, and I’m most likely going to drag you along with me, too. You’re like some kind of proposal expert. Seriously, start a business. You’d make millions. Jesus, I hope he says yes…  
… So today was my birthday, and you painted me a painting, and it is the best thing anyone’s ever made me. Thought you should know. A few weeks ago I showed you some pictures from Nevis, and I guess you have a really good memory, because today you gave me like a perfect recreation of one of them. I hung it next to my bed so it’s the first thing I see in the morning besides John. You’re a really good artist. It looks even more like Nevis than the picture does…  
...I told you before I told Eliza. Still hoping you’re going to break the news to her before I have to. You spent the next half hour ranting about how you were going to get the money for treatment, how you were going to singlehandedly change all the healthcare laws, how you were going to discover the cure for AIDS by yourself. It was a nice change from all the crying, I guess…  
...I put your painting next to my bed in the hospital. And you come a few times a week, which is more than Eliza. We watch Disney movies together. The amount of Disney movies you haven’t seen is astounding. I feel like you must have grown up in a cult or something, with the number of movies you still haven’t watched. And every day you keep saying how I’m going to get better, and how everything is going to be fine, and I never have the heart to disagree with you, even though I know you’re wrong. And I know that every time you visit you go down to the chapel in the hospital afterwards, and even though you’re the only religious person out of any of us, I know everyone else joins you most of the time. I don’t know if it helps me, but it sure helps you…   
...There’s a picture of you on my fridge and I looked at it for a really long time today. It’s you and Eliza at our wedding, and you’re bent over laughing, and you’ve got your red lipstick on, and I don’t know. It’s a good picture of you. In every other picture I’ve got people are making sure they look good, and you never do that. You just take the picture. It’s a good thing, really. I guess life’s been kind of like that lately. Everyone’s trying to make things look good. Pretending I didn’t just get sent home because I’ve got two weeks left. No one seems to acknowledge that I’m going to be gone. I wish someone would, honestly. Because, I don’t know, it’d be nice to get some real goodbyes in. Nothing’s stopping me from writing them in here, I guess…  
...take care of Eliza for me. We both know she don't need it, but do it anyway...


	6. Thomas' Notebook- Excerpts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very short and very off-topic chapter for you, since the next one is Washington's and neither you nor I are emotionally prepared for that one

Thomas’ Notebook- Excerpts

Dear Thomas,  
Fuck you. You are quite possibly one of the most horrible people I have ever met. I will never understand why James Madison, a very intelligent and sane person, could possibly date such a bigoted, egotistical, unstable, and generally shitty invention like yourself. I was already in a bad mood today, but then I saw you at a coffee shop and I had to get into a debate over whether or not you should have to respect Lafayette’s pronouns, and now I feel like I could murder a small child and feel nothing but mild glee. That is how angry you make me…  
...I could fill this entire notebook with the reasons I hate you, but sadly even I can’t make my handwriting small enough to fit them all, and you’re not worth the effort of buying two different notebooks for. This used to be my math notebook, but then I got one that actually worked. Kind of how people are with you. They’re friends with you for a while, then they find literally any other person on the planet and realize what a terrible human being you are and leave you…  
...I mean, jesus christ, I’m dying of AIDS over here, and I’ve spent a good portion of my life completely emotionally numb because of depression or antidepressants, and somehow I still manage to get into a fit of rage whenever I see one of your facebook posts…  
...fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck. you. Fuck you sideways with a lawn chair. I hope one day you wake up and your ugly ass purple jacket has wound itself around your neck and strangled you. Fuck you...


End file.
